Turtle Soup
by Goblin Cat KC
Summary: Shredder kept threatening. Finally he catches one of them. Warning: potentially disturbing imagery. Oneshot.


**Turtle Soup**  
by KC

Disclaimer: I don't own the turtles.  
_Warnings: involves what some might consider disturbing imagery._ Had to write it. Couldn't stop 'till it was done.  
Summary: Shredder kept threatening. One day he finally caught one of them.  
No pairings, just very close siblings. And no Splinter. I dunno if he's dead or conveniently away. He's just not there. Yay no Splinter.

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With his hands cinched tight behind his back, Donatello struggled, kicked and even bit one of the ninja forcing him down the dull gray corridor. The farther they walked, the more desperate he became. None of them had spoken, but their sniggers and low laughter seemed far more ominous than the usual insults tossed during their fights. He knew something awful waited for him at the end of the hall.

Two of them held onto his arms while two more pushed him from behind. A lucky kick sent the closest ninja to his knees, but Donatello was given no chance to dart out of their reach. Tired of struggling with him, one of the ninjas pushing him dropped a noose around his neck and drew it tight as he gave it a good yank.

Choking, Donatello gasped and tilted to one side, stumbling as he was pushed again. Now their job became easier as he spent more energy struggling to breathe. Once they reached the end of the hall, they kicked him through the doors.

Donatello sprawled on the floor and lay still for a moment to catch his breath, dimly aware of laughter and the Shredder's voice, something about the "guest of honor arriving." Not good. He couldn't fight, he was exhausted, he was alone, and his brothers knew he always took hours when searching the junk yards. He didn't think he had hours.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Shredder and several of his clan sat at a long table, and many lesser ninja sat at smaller tables lined around the room. So the Foot Clan wanted to make an example out of him. He squashed his panic and forced himself to think. Maybe they'd want a duel, him against the whole clan until he dropped. If so, he could make a break for it early on and get away.

Then he saw the cauldron.

Straight out of a cartoon, it looked big enough to fit him inside. Ugly black with a pile of wood beneath it, the cauldron stood in the center of the room so everyone had a good view. His breath hitched. He mind blanked.

"I see by the terror in your eyes that you understand, animal," Shredder said, then glanced at the ninjas who'd brought him there. "Throw him in."

Their hands hauling him to his feet brought him back to his senses. Struggling frantically, he only succeeded in making the clan laugh as they inched him toward the cauldron. He saw that it was already filled with water. When they pushed him up against the side, he fought to keep from being bent over, but with four hands on his head and shoulders, he was soon forced down and tipped into the cold water with a small splash.

For a moment his face touched the cast iron bottom, but after a few seconds of kicking and squirming, he turned himself right side up and stood up. The water and the cauldron itself only came to his waist when he stood, but there was no way he could get out again. He stood there dripping and shivering, trying to slip his hands free and watching as they pulled a box of matches and stuffed kindling into the wood.

He knew they wouldn't let him stand long, and when he heard the clatter behind him, he looked over his shoulder and saw them hauling a large grid of four iron bars crossed over each other. He was struck by the thought that it looked like a tic-tac-toe board and the hands of the ninja holding it looked like one of the X's, and he mentally filled out the game before he realized he was starting to panic. He forced himself to breathe deep again, but before he completely had a grip on himself again, the grid was lowered around his head. The heavy iron pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him back into the water. They locked the grid in place, and he groaned as he closed his eyes again. He couldn't think of any way out. He was too tired to think. The sound of a match being struck and the smell of burning wood and smoke coming from under the cauldron made him feel weaker.

Something splashed into the water with him. He half-opened his eyes and watched a bag of soup stock poured inside. He felt a sick urge to laugh. They were really going to go through with this. It felt like a lame cartoon, a bad B movie, but he didn't hear any glass being shattered or startled yells, the tell-tale sounds of his brothers coming for him, and the water was starting to heat up.

Salt, whole celery stalks, and butter dropped into the cauldron. They even chopped the onions in front of him. He turned his head away and refused to watch. The smell of smoke grew stronger, making him cough. One of them finally noticed he still had his bandana and snatched it off his face, throwing it at Shredder's feet like an offering.

The water grew worse. He didn't see any bubbles yet, but it was starting to hurt. Despite their laughter, he squirmed and tried to get off the bottom of the cauldron. He had to settle for leaning more on his thigh, but soon that didn't help anymore. He tried to keep his hands off the iron. If his brothers--when his brothers came for him, he didn't want his hands to be too burned to hold his staff. But his staff lay snapped in pieces, he remembered. The heat made his head swim. Didn't matter. When his brothers came...when his brothers...

He began to scream. The screams were small, hoarse, rising out of him slowly like the bubbles rising to the water's surface. The laughter around him hurt worse. He tried to stand again but the iron was too hot to touch. It hurt, everything hurt.

He was too consumed by pain to hear smashing glass and the startled yells. He gasped through rising steam and only noticed that the cauldron had been unlocked when someone reached in and hauled him up. He groaned, unable to help save himself. Even if he'd been free, his hands were shaking too badly to do anything.

The rope around his wrists was cut, and his arm was draped over someone's shoulder as they supported him, half-carrying him away. Feeling both hot and cold, he looked up in time to see a sword sail past Shredder's face, missing him only by an inch. The move put Shredder in the path of a sai, though, which went through his shoulder and stuck into the chair behind him.

The world whirled around and he tried not to get in the way of whoever was carrying him. He didn't remember much of the escape or even the ride home in the van, although he remembered the street lights on the road home as they flashed through the windows. Dark, light, dark, light, soft flashes in a steady rhythm as voices whispered around him.

His skin still hurt. He knew that the pain was a good sign, but they got home too soon for him. He wanted the ride to take longer. Like a soldier rushed home from war, he didn't feel like the fight was really over yet. A few minutes ago he was boiling to death. At least they didn't expect him to walk the rest of the way. Someone picked him up and carried him to his bed, or maybe just _a_ bed, the closest one perhaps. Maybe the couch. He couldn't tell.

Did he fall asleep? He blinked and turned his head to the side. A dim glow from the corner just barely let him see someone sitting next to him. That someone had a book, but as soon as he moved, they set the book aside and leaned closer. Donatello smiled.

"Sight for sore eyes," he slurred, still too tired to speak clearly.

"I could say the same," Leonardo whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Like crap." Donatello looked back at the ceiling. "I was so stupid. They surprised me. They almost..."

Leonardo didn't answer. Donatello noticed that the smell of smoke and food didn't cling to him. They must have cleaned him up before they--he shifted slightly--yes, before they wrapped linen bandages around his legs and arms. He sighed.

"I'm never going out alone again."

"Don..." Leonardo said, lightly resting his hand on Donatello's. "You can't let this spook you--"

"'Spook'?" Donatello muttered. He glared at his brother, but his anger wasn't focused at him. "I was almost their dinner. I don't care if this was just cosmic bad luck, Leo, they tried to eat me. There's no way I'm...there's no way."

He didn't mean to let his emotions grab such free reign over him, but he couldn't stop them now that they were out. He turned away to face the wall, but his hand curled around his brother's at the same time.

"They were laughing," he said softly. "They've never tried this before. I can't go out there again, not knowing that they might--I can't go, not alone."

Leonardo didn't argue again. He moved the chair aside and sat on the floor, which made it easier to sit next to his brother. For the first time, Donatello noticed that he was in Leonardo's bed, lower to the ground than the others.

"You don't have to--"

"It's okay." Leonardo smiled and leaned against his bed. "It's comfortable enough. You can ask them if you don't believe me."

Frowning slightly in confusion, Donatello glanced down towards the foot of the bed. To his surprise, Michelangelo and Raphael both lay half-on the bed, half-off. Leonardo must have draped the blanket over them since they never willingly shared, always demanding separate ones, but they slept peacefully enough. Each of them had a hand beside Donatello's legs, careful not to push against him or hurt him, simply making sure he was there.

"Oh," he mumbled.

"They were scared," Leonardo explained. "We were all scared. We almost lost you, Don. And if you don't wanna go out alone, you don't have to. We'll be there with you."

Donatello half-smiled and shook his head once. "We both know you guys get bored on my scavenger hunts. You don't have to promise."

"Yeah, we'll get bored," Leonardo agreed. "And Raph and Mike'll start fighting, and I'll yell at them, and then you'll ask us to stop distracting you." He shrugged and lay his head down, getting comfortable as he relaxed. "Then they'll quiet down, we'll finish up and go home. It's okay. We'll still be there with you."

Donatello opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. Tried again, stopped. Finally he settled for holding his brother's hand and trying not to think about everything at once. Instead he chose a particular thought and gives his brother one more look.

"Hey, how'd you know something was wrong? You guys know I can spend hours in the junk yards. How'd you know to come find me?"

"Mike broke something," Leonardo answered. "He tried to call you so you'd get a replacement. We knew something was wrong when you didn't answer."

"Good thing he broke it then," Donatello said, a little disappointed. Just dumb luck.

"Nah," Leonardo mumbled, on the cusp of falling asleep. "Raphael broke something else while Mike was trying to call. And then I was going to tell one of them to get you anyway 'cause I think I crushed something in the shellcell. It's not working right."

"Again?" Donatello said around a growing smile.

"Yes, 'again'. Anyway, we miss you when you're not here. Can't help but reach out for you."

Leonardo's voice drifted away. The silence stretched out until Donatello glanced over at him and found him fast asleep. Not a bad idea, he thought to himself, and he felt safe enough now that he was surrounded by his siblings. The night light didn't bother him from falling asleep, and their soft breathing kept bad dreams away.

end


End file.
